


The Year of Hell Logs

by Sab



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: (Uploaded by Punk), Ensemble Cast, Episode: s04e08 Year of Hell, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-03-09
Updated: 1998-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Sab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day. (Uploaded by Punk, from you guys are just fucked.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Year of Hell Logs

**Day 133**

Breakfast. The mess hall lights were dim, and the crew sat around a table near the door, plates of combat rations half-full before them. Torres punctuated her last thought with a pound of her fist that shook the table, and the sound resonated in the empty, lonely room. Neelix spoke. 

"To be quite honest, I don't know what you're all complaining about!" Neelix said. "The nebula is really quite...lovely, the cool interior climate rather...invigorating! From where I'm sitting it's...." he trailed off, unconvincing even to himself. "Ah..what I meant to say was, I want to get out of here as much as the rest of you do, but, since we're going to be here for a while, why not make the best of it."

The crew stared at him, unblinking. They had been working for days on end, and they looked it, exhausted, beaten. B'Elanna Torres, across the table from Neelix, looked like a throwback to some primeval wild - her hair was matted into clumps, bloodied and crusty, and her eyes, wide and fierce, were streaked with as much red as white. She looked very, very old, Neelix noted without pleasure. Harry Kim hardly looked better, his face ashen, his jaw one sharp line of tight muscle and scar. Tuvok couldn't seem to stop nodding, the slight continual bob of his head - Neelix was sure the Vulcan wasn't even aware of the movement - in rhythm with the whirring ships systems made it look like Tuvok was perpetually conversing with himself: _"Are we all going to die?" "Yes." "Yes." "Yes."_

Only Seven seemed non-nonplussed, but what could "pluss" a Borg, Neelix wondered? Her hands were crossed on the table and she sat beside Tuvok, her head cocked to one side, always attuned to him as if she could hear that conversation he was having. _"Are we all going to die?" "Yes." "Yes." "Yes."_

Tuvok seemed so _resigned_ , so ready...Neelix shook his head and leaped to his feet.

"Seconds, anyone?" he asked. Murmured refusals came from the crew. Neelix sat down again. "So!" he said. "Where were we?"

"Lieutenant Torres had just finished saying that she thought it prudent for us to allow ourselves to die," Seven said bluntly. Torres glared at her.

"Why the _hell_ not?" she snapped. "This ship is not going to get us back to the Alpha Quadrant, hell, this ship might not make impulse speed any time soon! And - sorry Neelix - I don't want to spend the rest of my life out here in the godforsaken DQ. Look. I'm sorry to sound blunt -" B'Elanna lowered her voice, "but she's _crazy_! Tom and Chakotay are dead, we're trapped out here in some anonymous pink nebula...I say give up while we've got some shred of dignity left in us."

"I must remind you," Tuvok said, "that Captain Janeway is responsible for our being alive this long. If her mental state were, indeed, impaired, I doubt seriously that she would have been able to accomplish all she has for us."

"I didn't ask for it!" B'Elanna said, her voice cracking. "I have a duty to this ship as long as Janeway's commanding it, and I'm not going to quit on you now, but, in my opinion, this is futile!"

"Nothing is futile," Seven said. The crew turned to her, shocked, and Neelix's jaw literally dropped. "I have learned that humanoids frequently accomplish the seemingly-impossible only under moments of extreme duress. To suggest that such a thing is untrue would be a blatant aberration at best."

Neelix, Torres and Tuvok, having tuned out in shock after hearing the words "nothing is futile" escape the ex-Borg's lips simply stared, but Harry spoke.

"I agree," he said. "We don't know Tom and Chakotay are dead; maybe they've found a way to infiltrate Annorax's forces from the inside. And there are plenty of worlds in the Delta Quadrant left to explore...we can find allies, get another ship, get supplies..." His eyes brightened a little.

"You're an idiot, Harry," B'Elanna said. "I'm sorry. But this is just ridiculous. I don't know what she's thinking."

"She...was a great Captain," Harry said finally.

"Was?" Neelix asked.

"B'Elanna's right. This is ridiculous. We're all gonna die," Harry managed over the lump in his throat. Neelix looked at Tuvok. _"Are we all going to die?" "Yes." "Yes." "Yes."_ "But she was a great Captain," Harry continued. "We're lucky to have served under her."

"I'll drink to that," B'Elanna said, lifting her mug into the air. Seven pushed B'Elanna's hand down with a little more force than was necessary, and B'Elanna glowered at her again.

"Most humanoid philosophy insists that it is the individual's attitude that dictates whether he or she will succeed. As Borg, I found this to be foolish - it was simply a matter of resources; the strong succeed, the weak are assimilated. But now that I am...more human, I have begun to find truth in this philosophy."

"Will you _stop_ that!" B'Elanna said. "'Humanoids think this', 'Humanoids think that'...how would you know? You're a Borg - you don't die, they just...deactivate you or whatever, but your consciousness is still there. How would you know what our limits are?"

"That is enough, Lieutenant," Tuvok spoke. "Seven-of-Nine was merely trying to point out..."

"I _know_ what she was trying to point out!" B'Elanna shrieked. Taking a breath and regaining what was left of her composure, she tried again, turned to face Seven. "I know what you were trying to do. I know we must sound weak, to you, giving up like this. But to a human, or a Klingon, or a..what's-it-called..." she squinted at Neelix, "...Talaxian, there's more to life than just the will to survive. A life like this, on this crumbling, dying ship," she waved a hand around, taking in the room, "is no life at all. Not for me. No way. How could she let us?!"

"Do you blame Captain Janeway for...this predicament?" Neelix said after a pause.

"Yes!" B'Elanna said immediately, then shook her head. "No, no, of course not. She's worked as hard as any of us - harder than most of us - she didn't want this to happen...but someone has to tell her that it's time to give up!"

"She might be right," Harry said to the table. "B'Elanna...I agree with you. I can't do this anymore."

Neelix looked from one to the other, fear clouding his round eyes. "Are you saying..."

"Think about it, Neelix," Harry said. "We repair the ship enough to get us out of this nebula and back to the Crenim. Then what? Then they blow us up, or erase us from history. We can't win against a weapon like that. But what other choice do we have? This ship is falling apart, we won't survive on it much longer, even if Tom and Chakotay _are_ already dead..." Harry bit his lip. //Did I just say that?// he asked himself. //Did I just suggest that we'd survive longer if the ship didn't have to support two extra passengers?// He flushed, willing himself not to crack. "Better to die now than to be erased from history," he concluded weakly.

"Mr. Kim," Tuvok nodded. "Lieutenant Torres. I agree that all evidence supports the fact that we will not survive on this ship much longer." ( _"Are we all going to die?" "Yes." "Yes." "Yes."_ ) "And I also agree that being erased from history by the Crenim weapon is not an...appealing option. With that in mind, the only logical conclusion is to divert all ship's energy to the temporal shielding, to ensure that the Crenim Imperium does not return...and then to die."

Even B'Elanna was incredulous. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"I will be the one to tell Captain Janeway," Tuvok said.

"You don't have to," came a gravelly voice from the doorway. Janeway strode in, pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. B'Elanna blushed, but Tuvok spoke before she could.

"I am sorry, Captain, that you had to overhear that. But the crew and I..."

She waved a hand at him, her face stoic but the pain behind her eyes was clear. "You...all feel this way?" Her gaze took in the group. "Mr. Neelix?"

Neelix blushed and looked down hard.

"B'Elanna? Harry?"

B'Elanna nodded sadly, locking eyes with Janeway and trying to convey her silent apology. Harry nodded too.

"Seven?" Janeway said.

"It makes no difference to me," Seven said. "If I die, the Borg collective will retain my memories. If the crew chooses to die, I will die along with you."

"Well then," Janeway said with a sigh. She slapped her comm badge. "Janeway to the Doctor."

"Please state the nature of...what is it, Captain?" returned the Doctor's voice.

"It seems," she began, "that my crew has given up." The emphasis on "my" was slight, but it stung. "They seem to think that to go on surviving would be cowardly, somehow. They suggest that we quit now. What do you have to say to that?"

"I think that's a ridiculous idea!" the Doctor said. "What am I supposed to do then? Just float around in some derelict computer for the rest of eternity? And what about Tom and Chakotay? Are we just going to leave them to the Crenim? I don't know who came up with this wool-headed plan, but it's an awful one! You agree with me, don't you, Captain?" the Doctor sounded almost pleading. The crewmembers looked at the floor or the table or some spot on the ceiling, trying not to listen to the Doctor's words.

"Yes," Janeway said. "I agree with you, Doctor. No one..." she leaned forward, pressed her palms into the table. "I repeat: no one is dying under my watch. Do you hear me?"

The mess hall lights were dim, and the crew sat around a table near the door, plates of combat rations half-full before them. B'Elanna looked at Janeway. //Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the Federation Starship Voyager// - the words echoed in B'Elanna's head. //Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, chief engineer.// She sighed. //She _was_ a good Captain. Is. Is. And a damned good engineer, even for my standards. And a formidable woman. But...// B'Elanna looked away. Harry was looking at the floor, embarrassed; Neelix fidgeted, unsure what to do with his hands. Seven had taken Tuvok's arm, but his eyes remained fixed on the Captain. _"Are we all going to die?" "Yes." "Yes." "Yes."_ he nodded, sadly.

The room was silent, still, the half-choking whirring sounds of the dying ship murmured through the bulkheads. Outside there was nebula and nothing, forever, eternal. Casting a last, reproachful look at her crew, Janeway rose and left the room.

She stood in the corridor for a long moment, shaking, her jaw clenched. //Kate,// she addressed herself firmly. //You are the Captain of this ship. The decision was yours to make. And you made it. And...// she managed a pathetic chuckle at the last thought, //tomorrow is another day. We can always die tomorrow...// With nothing but the clack of her heels on the corroded floor for company she started down the hall, turned a corner and headed to the bridge, for another day aboard her ship.

**Day 151**

"Now, B'Elanna!" Janeway shouted over the din.

"Give me a minute!" Torres snapped, her left hand ripping at wires while her right fanned the pink gas of the nebula from her eyes.

"Can you do it from the bridge?" Janeway asked.

"If I could do it from the bridge I would, Captain," Torres said. "I don't know what Tom was thinking when he designed these transverse bulkheads without manual override. This is ridiculous."

"I imagine he was assuming we wouldn't want to take them _down_ once they were in place," Janeway said, coughing. "He didn't think we'd be trying to vent gas _out_ of the conference room _through_ a hull breach. Frankly, neither did I, but it's a convenient way to keep this nebula outside where it belongs."

"Good point," Torres muttered. "Got it," she said, wresting her hand free from the panel and holding up a tangle of wires victoriously. "I just hope we don't need to use the bulkheads in this section...I don't know if I'll be able to rebuild this."

"You'd better figure out a way. It only takes one crack to cause a hull breach," Janeway said. "But let's do it from the bridge. We'll have hell to pay with the doctor if we breathe this stuff any longer." She reached down to pull the engineer to her feet, and they hurried out of room.

Once the door was shut behind them, Janeway punched some commands into a wall panel. "The forcefield's down. The room should be clearing out now." She eyed the monitor. "56 percent saturated, 41 percent, 30..." 

Torres leaned forward, pressed her palms into her knees and coughed. Strips of matted, sweaty hair striped her brow, and she rubbed her cheek against her shoulder to push them free.

"Down to nine percent saturated...five...the room's clear. I'm repressurizing it now," Janeway said.

"Neelix has requested that we convene in the mess hall for dinner," B'Elanna jumped at the sound of Seven's voice in the corridor, and Janeway placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, I'm famished," Janeway said, nodding to Seven and following her down the hall, B'Elanna at her heels.

Kim, Tuvok and Neelix were already seated when the three women arrived, and the doctor was pacing the room, skulking and grimacing.

"There!" he said. "Did you see that? I'm _flickering_. _Flickering_ , for heaven's sake. There, again, see?"

Janeway cocked her head to one side and looked at him. "You seem okay to me," she said. "What do you think, B'Elanna?"

Torres smiled. "I think he's in better shape than the rest of us," she said.

"Oh, sure," the doctor said. "Sure, ignore it. The hologram can't have problems, can't be in pain. Who mends _your_ broken bones? Who treats the burns you so foolishly allow yourself to get inflicted with? But when I'm sick...oh, it's nothing. There? See? I'm _flickering_!"

Janeway squoze B'Elanna's shoulder. "When you have a chance, check out his subroutine, okay?"

"Sure thing," Torres said, sliding into a chair.

A klaxon sounded.

"Oh no. What now?" Torres said, leaping to her feet. Tuvok, Kim and Neelix followed suit. Seven accessed the main computer and was scrutinizing the readout.

"There is a hull breach on deck one," she remarked, matter-of-factly. "It extends along the outside of the conference room to the front of the bridge. I recommend we seal off that deck immediately."

"No way," Janeway said. "We're not losing the bridge, not now. Seven, engage the transverse bulkheads and seal off the area with forcefields. Harry, B'Elanna, you're with me."

"Captain," Torres said. "That section doesn't have transverse bulkheads anymore. I just tore the controls out, remember?"

Janeway stopped cold. "Fuck," she said before she could stop herself. "Then we'll have to repair the hull."

"I have installed the surrounding bulkheads and have sealed off the area with forcefields," Seven reported.

"Captain, may I speak with you?" Tuvok asked stoically.

Janeway waved a hand at him. "Not now, Tuvok." She started for the door.

"Captain!" Tuvok said, more loudly. "I would like to speak with you now."

Janeway sighed, ushered Tuvok into a corner. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

Tuvok's eyes met hers. "Any attempt to salvage the bridge would be an unnecessary misuse of personell and equipment at best. At worst, you run the risk of killing yourself and this crew."

Janeway stared at him. "Lieutenant, we are six people and a hologram, 65 thousand light-years from home, trapped in the middle of a nebula in the middle of a war with an enemy that would like nothing better than to erase us from history. This ship is the only thing that's keeping us alive, and the bridge is her nerve center. We owe it to Voyager to keep her alive as well."

"Captain," Tuvok began again. "I must remind you that we can survive on this ship without the bridge resources."

"Noted and logged," Janeway nodded. "But we won't. Thank you for your input. Now, I have a hull breach to repair." She stepped away from Tuvok. "B'Elanna! Harry!" The Lieutenant and Ensign fell into step behind her and the three headed for deck one. In the mess hall, Tuvok and Seven exchanged a look.

***

"Is anyone else cold?" Kim asked as he hoisted himself up the ladder and landed with a thunk on the ragged floor of the deck one corridor.

"Freezing," Torres admitted, rubbing her hands together.

"Seven," Janeway slapped her comm badge. "What's life support status on Deck One?"

"Life support is at eleven percent," Seven reported.

"That would explain it," Janeway said with a nod, pulling her sleeves over her hands to protect them from the cold metal of the I-beams she was pushing aside.

"Captain, we won't be able to breathe for very long up here," Kim said. "Fifteen, sixteen minutes at most."

"Then we'd better hurry. B'Elanna, there should be a soldering tool behind that panel," Janeway gestured to what would have been the supply cabinet for Turbolift 7, if Turbolift 7 still existed. Torres tore open the panel, lifted out a soldering gun. 

"Yeah, it's powered," B'Elanna answered the unasked question, with more than a little surprise in her voice.

"Then start gathering up deck plates, splints, whatever you think we can use to seal that crack," Janeway's arms were already piled with ragged sheets of tritanium plating. Kim and Torres followed suit.

Outside the door to the bridge they paused. Janeway slapped her communicator again. "Seven, what's the environment like on the bridge?"

"Oxygen levels are at forty-one percent of normal and dropping," Seven replied. "Temperature is negative one hundred eight degrees celsius and dropping. Lights inoperative. Hull and floor sections are straining. Artificial gravity at -"

"Enough," Janeway interrupted her, held up a hand that Seven, several decks away, of course could not see. "Suffice it to say, unpleasant. So we'll do this as quickly and painlessly as possible." She turned to face Kim and Torres. "When I open the door, the pressure in the corridor is going to change pretty drastically. Find something to hold on to..." Janeway herself gripped an I-beam that had been exposed by a torn wall section. B'Elanna and Harry secure, Janeway opened the door.

Her chest strained to breathe, the thin atmosphere slicing up her lungs like a thousand tiny needles. Her eyes threatened to pop from her skull, and her hair tore at her scalp. "Now!" she called, forging ahead into the frigid room, B'Elanna and Harry struggling to follow. 

The force shield sealing the rip in the hull flickered terrifyingly, threatening to shut down at any moment and donate the captain, lieutenant and ensign to the non-charity of space.Janeway allowed herself a glance at the remains of her bridge. //I'm coming, Voyager,// she thought. //Don't you worry. Here I am.//

Kim had reached the rupture and was fitting pieces of metal over the gap. Torres struggled at the science station's computer.

Janeway examined the tear."B'Elanna, what do you think? Can you repair the transverse bulkheads from here?"

"If I had more time, I could, Captain," she replied. "I have to write an entire program to reroute the subroutine up here before I even begin work, though. It will take an hour at least."

"We don't have enough oxygen for an hour," Kim said aloud, though he hadn't meant to.

"Then let's seal that gap," Janeway said, joining him and wielding the soldering gun.

Seven's voice cut through the whistling hiss of the bridge. "Captain, I must inform you that the exterior force shields are failing. They are down to six percent of normal, and I anticipate a section-wide failure in under one minute. I recommend that you evacuate the area."

"Understood," Janeway said. "Thank you, Seven. Janeway out."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the forcefield flicker. "Harry, B'Elanna, get out of here and seal the door behind you," she said. "I'll finish this."

"Captain," B'Elanna protested.

"It's not a suggestion," Janeway snapped, pushing Harry aside and soldering furiously. Harry and B'Elanna raced from the room and the door hissed shut behind them. 

The room was terrifically, awe-inspiringly cold. Janeway licked her lips, damning herself to chapping later. //Ha!// she thought. //If there _is_ a later...// She picked up another metal panel, bits of her fingertips sticking to its cold surface as she slapped it into place and began soldering. The forcefield flickered. "Come on, Voyager!" she said aloud. "Not after all we've been through. Not now."

The forcefield collapsed. Janeway's lungs felt like frozen daggers, and near the surface of her skin she saw red splotches indicating imploded capillaries. She held her breath and fit another panel in place. The gap was smaller now, only a narrow crack about ten inches wide and maybe six feet long, but the pressure stretched it now, and slender tributaries spidered out along the main crack, reaching almost to the floor. Janeway soldered another panel, then another. Black spots hovered in front of her eyes, and bits of shrapnel, torn free by the rapid decrease in pressure whipped about her, tearing her uniform and lacerating her skin. Janeway soldered another panel in place. //Why, Voyager?// She thought. Her brain was clouded and her movements were deliberate and painfully slow. //It's so cold, and I'm so tired...// She picked up a nearly-square piece of floor, squinted at it. //Why...oh.// She slapped it against the crack and soldered it in place. Only a foot-long tentacle snaked out from the end of her patchwork, not even an inch thick, a window out on the lonesome expanse of the nebula. //We need each other, Voyager...// she thought. //Please, please...// She pressed the last panel against the crack and soldered it closed. In a last, half-conscious thought, she slapped her comm badge. "B'Elanna...air..."

Outside the door, shivering, B'Elanna heard the Captain's weak plea. She leaped to the control panel and programmed the sequence for repressurizing the bridge. The whoosh of air from beyond the door told her that it was working, that the crack was sealed, that the oxygen levels on the bridge were returning to normal. Torres looked at Harry and broke into a wide, astonished grin. The door opened.

Janeway was slumped against the wall, pale and bloodied. B'Elanna opened a comm link to the mess hall. "Doctor, the Captain's unconscious. I need you up here now!"

"Yes ma'am," the Doctor muttered. B'Elanna was sure he was still complaining as the comm link closed.

"Ensign, do you know how the transverse bulkheads work?" she asked. Kim nodded. "Good. Try and bypass this section in the program protocol so the ones on this deck are linked to deck two. We don't know if the seal the Captain built is gonna hold, and we need to be able to get those bulkheads operational again."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, and scurried out of the room.

B'Elanna leaned over Janeway, felt the Captain's weak pulse and listened to her erratic, wheezing breath."Captain?" she asked, not really expecting a reply. "Nice work, Captain." She rapped her fingernails on the makeshift wall panels, listened to their solid ring. "There's no reason why we should be alive now. There's no reason you should have been able to salvage the bridge like that. I don't know, Captain. Maybe we will get out of this...."

B'Elanna surveyed the room. I-beams littered the warped, peeling floor. Computer consoles lay naked, all blinking lights and exposed wiring. Chairs were literally uprooted; the ceiling sagged.Outside, through the viewscreen, all was pink and cloudy. But the Captain's chair was intact, the tactical station and the science station stood unscathed, as if protected. The room smelled faintly of burned power couplings, melted plastics, fused tritanium. But the bridge was still the bridge, and Voyager still Voyager, still the truest home B'Elanna Torres had ever known.

"If anyone can get us through this, you can, Captain Kathryn Janeway," B'Elanna said, as if it were a prayer. "And maybe we will get through this." The Doctor entered, brushed B'Elanna gruffly aside as he knelt next to the Captain. 

"Maybe, just maybe..." she whispered, "we will."

**Day 160**

B'Elanna got halfway down the corridor, furrowed her brow, and turned back, following the peculiar scraping sound. She stopped outside the door of Astrometrics.

//chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka// B'Elanna pressed her ear to the door. It sounded like someone was scraping something hard against something not-quite-so-hard...//chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka// or maybe like someone was breathing through paper, or like gas, leaking through paper...//chicka-chicka-chicka-chicka// Or like gas leaking through really thin tritanium! B'Elanna's heart leaped into her throat as she imagined another hull breach, Astrometrics being sucked dry by the vacuum of space. 

"Computer," she said, wondering how to phrase the question. "What's going on inside the Astrometrics lab?"

The computer didn't answer. The computer had stopped talking almost two weeks ago. B'Elanna remembered, and sighed. Taking a deep breath and planting her feet firmly, she opened the door.

Janeway was sanding. As in, Captain Kathryn Janeway was sitting on the floor with a sanding torch and a ragged console cover across her lap, and she was sanding it smooth. She looked up when B'Elanna entered.

"I thought you were sleeping!" They said in unison, both slightly embarrased, then laughed.

"I wanted to get this done," Janeway said, just as B'Elanna returned with "I wasn't tired."

B'Elanna sat down beside the Captain. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Cleaning up these consoles a bit," Janeway said, sanding. "This room is a disaster area."

B'Elanna looked around. Like every other accessible room on what was left of Voyager, Astrometrics was a shambles, the walls and ceiling split and warped, beams and panels scattered across the floor, consoles and chairs uprooted and in piles. She eyed Janeway suspiciously.

"I know it doesn't matter, but it makes me feel better," Janeway confessed. "I haven't done a bang-up job taking care of my crew...I can at least take some semblance of care of my ship."

"I don't know, Captain," Torres said. "The way you salvaged the bridge last week; I'd say you're really going beyond the call of duty, under the circumstances, to keep things...ship-shape."

Janeway laughed. "It makes me feel better," she said again. She stopped sanding for a moment, looked at B'Elanna. Janeway's eyes were wide and wild, pupils dilated and whites bloodshot from lack of sleep. Her hair hung in matted spikes across her forehead, and her arms were scarred and scraped under her blue tank. Her hands shook a bit.

"Can I talk to you, B'Elanna?" Janeway asked.

"Of course, Captain," Torres said.

"Listen to me," Janeway said, placing a hand on B'Elanna's knee. "I am going to get you home. I promise. I know things look pretty awful now, but this crew survives. Survives!" Janeway looked as if she were fighting tears. "We've got to get Tom and Chakotay back here."

Torres looked down hard.

"You miss him," Janeway said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, I do," Torres said. "Stubborn arrogant jerk, probably just baiting those guys every chance he gets. Honestly I would be very surprised if they didn't kill him. If they haven't already."

"Chakotay will look out for him, and Lieutenant Paris has a good head on his shoulders," Janeway said, her voice softening. "Granted, he's a little lacking in the respect department, but he's got wits enough to compensate. He knows how to play the game."

"Maybe," Torres didn't sound convinced.

"No, not maybe," Janeway said. "You start thinking like that and we're damned prematurely. I _will_ get you home, Tom and Chakotay _will_ return to Voyager, this ship and this crew _will_ survive."

"Maybe," Torres said again, shaking her head.

Janeway sighed. "A long time ago...eons ago, it seems...late in the first year out here, I thought seriously about finding an M-class planet in the Delta Quadrant and moving in. Giving this crew a real home, and trying to make some sort of life out here. Chakotay was all for it, even Tuvok thought it was...logical. We were low on supplies, low on power, trying to keep this crew going felt like suicide. And then Tom..." Janeway chuckled, remembering, "came into my ready room one day to thank me, _thank me_ for getting him out of jail and giving him a job. 'Captain,' he said. 'I'm probably going to regret saying this later, but I'm so confident that we're going to get home that I wanted to tell you that this trip is, actually, fun.' Fun, he said, B'Elanna!" Janeway grinned. "So what could I do? I shooed him out of the room before I started crying like some sap, but I knew then that this crew was going home. We take the knocks, we become a family, we spend seventy years of quality time together at worst. But we're not giving up."

B'Elanna smiled weakly. 

"And I just remember looking at him," Janeway continued, "and thinking, 'that's the kind of man I want piloting my ship.' This is a phenomenal crew. The best. I promised you I wouldn't break up this family, and I regret daily having to ask the rest of the crew to leave."

"You had to," B'Elanna said. Kate raised a hand, nodding.

"I know. But the rest of us, you, and me, and Tom and Chakotay...Tuvok...Seven, Neelix..." Janeway clapped a hand to her heart, "Harry - that poor kid has had to grow up out here in the middle of nowhere! But he's got us. We've got each other. And we've got this ship," Janeway stroked the console cover, "and she's taking us home."

B'Elanna smiled. "I don't thank you enough, Captain," she said. "For making me Chief Engineer, for making this ship a home for me, for taking care of all of us."

"It's my job," Janeway said.

"Tom and I..." Torres began, then bit her lip. 

"You love him, don't you," Janeway said.

Torres shook her head, smiling. "I do. I really do. I can't believe it, most of the time, but I do." She took a breath. "Yeah. I do."

"You make a good team, the two of you, professionally and personally. You can't possibly know the extent to which I depend on you...the two of you, more than any other members of my crew." Janeway stopped, laughed abruptly. "I shouldn't be saying this."

"We could die tomorrow," B'Elanna said, smiling.

"Good point," Janeway said. She took a breath. "The helmsman and the chief engineer, that partnership...that's what keeps a ship going. You and Tom understand each other, anticipate one another, can work in shorthand. I am so proud of the two of you I don't know what to do, sometimes. You're like my children, all of you, and you're just so damned capable, and talented and brave; I'd give you all medals, if I could."

"Captain," B'Elanna said. "Tom and I...the whole crew, really...we've been talking, recently, and, for a long time...but even recently, Harry, and Seven, and Neelix...we want to make sure you don't think we blame you for any of this."

Tears sprang to Janeway's eyes and she focused on the floor, biting her tongue. //I'm the hub, I'm the strong center, supposedly...I'm not going to cry, not this week. Not this year.//

"The shape of a human life..." B'Elanna began again, trying to make a cohesive statement, "...we don't know how our lives are going to turn out. This," she gestured to the room around them, "might look like the worst thing that can happen to a person. I certainly hope it's the worst _my_ life ever gets. But any officer in the fleet would be lucky...beyond lucky...to get the chance to serve with you. And any person would be beyond lucky for the opportunity to have you as a friend."

//Oh no. I'm not going to cry. I'm not weakening. Not this year,//Janeway thought. //They need me. And, god, do I need them. All of them.// "Thank you, B'Elanna," Janeway said, after several deep breaths.

"If I were in your place, I'd be scared as hell, right now," B'Elanna went on. "I don't know how you do it, Captain."

//Oh, B'Elanna, I'm terrified,// Janeway wanted to say. //Please, please, hold me, tell me everything is going to be okay, tell me I'm not about to kill us all, tell me we'll survive this, promise me! I am scared shitless, B'Elanna, have never been more scared in my life. I can't handle this responsibility. It's too much. Too much! I quit. I quit. I give up. I can't take it any more. I can't take one more system failure or one more attack or one more officer dying under my watch.//

Janeway looked at B'Elanna, saw the trust in the young Klingon's eyes, a taste of hope she hadn't seen in months, it seemed. And that was enough. She reached out, folded B'Elanna in her sinewy, calloused arms, and held her tight. "We're gonna make it, B'Elanna," she said. "I promise. I promise."

B'Elanna broke free from the embrace, smiled at Janeway. "Thanks, Captain," she said. "I believe you." With that, she got up and left the room.

Janeway listened to her footsteps retreat for a long moment, and sighed. "God forgive me," she said under her breath. "Let them all forgive me. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry..."

She continued sanding, ignoring the dull ache in her heart, the emptiness at the pit of her stomach. And in the Astrometrics lab of a dying ship, Kathryn Janeway had never felt more alone.

**Day 168**

B'Elanna Torres's shoulder's popped again, and she bit down on her wrist, silencing a scream as she tried to straighten her right leg. Her knee was dislocated, she was sure, and she had slipped more than one vertabrae in her back, making sleep nearly impossible. //Mess hall collapse,// she thought, remembering the origins of the purple welt on her forearm. Her knee? //Repairing Jeffries Tube 8-beta.//The scars across her face and arms spelled more plasma burns than she cared to recall, over the last two months; the kinks in her back remembered conduit collapses, hull breaches, last week's impulse engine disaster. //Tom, when you get back, I expect a good hour's worth of massage...great. Now I'm delusional.// She bit back tears. Thinking of the skeletal ship terrified her; she tried to push away the image of Voyager, a collection of collapsed honeycombs, hollow boxes of rubble, decaying bulkhead and weakening forcefields separating the crew from the merciless expanse of Delta Quadrant space. She was glad Janeway had limited the crew's movement to a handful of decks, glad they were all sleeping in the same cold room. //She really doesn't know...// B'Elanna thought. //The captain really thinks we'll survive this. That's what's kept us alive this long...Janeway's refusal to cede to the argument of fate. Janeway's refusal to admit that this is a catastrophe, an unthinkable horror we're awkwardly waiting out!// B'Elanna shuddered. //I am fucking terrified,// she thought. //Terrified. Never been more terrified, and today is a good day to die. Why won't she let us die?!// She reached under her pillow, slid out the hypospray, shook it. "Ugh, not enough," she muttered, burying her face in the bed, tasting the crusted blood on her sheets. She scratched the flakes with a fingernail, brushing the crumbs to the floor. 

"What was that, Lieutenant?" Janeway's voice from the lower bunk cut through the dark.

Torres pulled the blanket under her chin, shuddering. "Nothing. I'm out of painkiller. It's nothing." She closed her eyes again, willing herself to sleep.

A slender hand crept up over the edge of Torres' bed, pushed a hypo vial across the mattress. "Try this one. Shake it a little, first," Janeway said. 

"I'm fine, really," B'Elanna said. "I'm not taking your last dose of Veranephrine."

"B'Elanna," Janeway choked on a half-laugh, cackled a little. "I forgot what pain felt like months ago. I think I've built up a tolerance by now. If it will help you at all, take it. That's an order."

B'Elanna shook the small vial, clicked it into place in her hypospray and pressed it to her jugular, listening to it hiss as she felt the numbing medicine spread through her bloodstream. "Thanks," she sighed. Her spine felt like an iron rod, her shoulders knotty lumps of bruised muscle. She forced herself to relax into the lumpy mattress. //Let us die!// She implored Janeway mentally. //Let us die with some scrap of valor, instead of wasting away, crumbling like this godforsaken ship!//

"Helping you helps all of us," Janeway said. "I can't afford to have you out of commission any more than you can. You know that."

"Yeah," B'Elanna said, nodding absurdly in the dark. "Yeah." 

"You ladies really ought to try and get some sleep," came Neelix's voice from across the room.

"You're absolutely right, Mr. Neelix," Janeway said. "Good night, B'Elanna."

"'Night, Captain," she said. 

"And goodnight to both of you," said Neelix. "May your dreams be as sweet as..." 

"Mr. Neelix," Janeway had warning in her voice.

"Of course," Neelix said, quietly. "Good night."

"Mmpf," said B'Elanna. 

***

An hour later. It's freezing. //Don't move or you'll shake the bed. Just ignore it. Just ignore it, bitch, fall asleep and it won't hurt anymore. Maybe you'll die. Hah! She can't blame you for that, dying in your sleep of the god-damned cold. // B'Elanna rolled over, and the bed creaked.

//Don't fall asleep, Kate! Come on, you're not tired. You fall asleep and you'll die, this cold will be the end of you. You gave B'Elanna your painkiller and Harry your blanket, now suck it up, girl. Tomorrow we'll all move to the bridge where it's warmer; we can sleep on the floor. Just make it through tonight, _Captain_...//

Two hours later.

"Mark!" Kathryn Janeway leaped from her computer, pushed open the swinging door and raced out onto the front lawn. The air was crisp, sunny, minty-pale light painting the walkway in front of her mother's house. Mark strode toward her, beaming, gathered her into his wiry embrace.

"It is _so_ good to see you, Kath," he said to her shoulder as he held her tight. She grimaced at the nickname, one she hated, one she would give anything to hear. "Tell me all about it. Come inside and tell me all about it."

She slipped a hand into his sweater, traced the shape of his spine with her fingers. His back was warm, smooth, goosebumps and hair stood on end where her fingers tickled his skin. He winked at her, beaming, and they entered the house.

Two and a half.

Sandrine's was smoky and warm. 

"That's the third time you beat me!" Tom was incredulous, leaning on his pool cue and staring at the table, head cocked to one side, eyes wide.

"Are you insinuating something, Lieutenant?" B'Elanna smirked, bumped Tom with one hip and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"You never beat me!" He said. "You're a terrible pool player! That's the only reason I agreed to play with you in the first place. I think if you played well it would be too much for me. Woman of my dreams, brilliant engineer _and_ a good pool player...I'd die on the spot."

B'Elanna winked at him. "Be careful what you wish for..." she said with a grin.

Three hours. The room is eerily still.

"I'm so sorry, Mark. I'm so sorry I didn't come home to you..." Kate traced Mark's face with the palm of her hand, felt his angular jaw, the rough trace of stubble pushing out from under his skin. His eyes were shadowed, his brow furrowed. He tore away from her and stood.

"No, Kath. That's not good enough. I can't wait for you any longer. You're dead. You're dead to me...that's how it's got to be." He turned away, headed for the door.

"I'm not dead! I'm coming, Mark...I'm coming home...I promise..." But the door had shut behind him with a clap and he was gone.

Blackness. Everywhere. The stars are gone, they're dead. Everything's dead. The light is dead, the crew is dead, the ship is dead. Blackness and silence and eternity stretched eternal. 

"You killed us, Captain," Seven said matter-of-factly, stepping from the shadows. 

"She's right," Harry said. "We would never have gotten stuck out here if it weren't for you."

"You and your bloated ego!" snapped B'Elanna.

"Did you really believe we would survive, Captain Janeway?" Tuvok's blind gaze was accusatory.

"But I..."

"Spare us, Captain!" Tom said. "We've heard enough of your promises, and enough of your lies."

"Listen to me!"

Chakotay's voice was ice. "No one's listening to you, Kathryn. Not anymore. We've heard enough."

"And we've _done_ enough!" B'Elanna put in.

"And we're not going to play by your rules anymore," Chakotay said. "I'm sorry, Kathryn."

"No...I'm sorry. Chakotay, please! I _know_ it's my fault, you have every right, _every right_ to..."

"We can do whatever we want!" said the Doctor, shrugging. "We're dead. We're not bound to you anymore. We don't have to follow your orders...we don't have to obey your death sentences. It's too late."

Mark clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You let me down, Kath. You let me down, and you let them down. This is some track record you've got, Captain!"

"But if you'll just..." Janeway looked from one face to the other; eyeless, sightless wraith-forms of her crew, her _family_.

"Just leave us alone!" B'Elanna said.

"It's over, Kathryn. Please. Leave us alone," Chakotay slipped back into the shadows, and the crew disappeared with him.

Kate whirled around. "You believe me, Mark, right? You know I tried...?"

Mark shook his head, "tsk-ing". "You failed. History books rarely honor ship captains for _trying_." He smiled at her sadly, and then turned and walked away.

Kate bit her pillow, swearing to herself and promising not to wake B'Elanna with her pathetic sobs.

"Mrmmgrmmm..." Tom said, rolling over.

"What was that?" B'Elanna crawled on top of him, raked her fingers through his hair.

"I said, 'particularly nasty weather,'" Tom said, batting her with a pillow.

"Uh huh," B'Elanna smirked. "I love you, too, jerk!"

Tom pulled her to him, kissed her hard, kicking off the blanket that was tangled between their naked bodies. It fell to the floor.

"Ironic, isn't it?" he said, twining his legs with hers and looking into her eyes.

"What is?"

"It takes a brush with death to get you to admit how you feel about me, and now we're both dead and we've got eternity to spend together!"

B'Elanna eyed him strangely. "We're dead. What do you mean, dead?"

"We'll, I don't know about _you_ ," Tom laughed, "but the last thing I remember was the business end of a Crenim phaser between my eyes. That kind of dead. The dead kind."

"Oh," B'Elanna said. "Huh."

"It's not so bad, is it...kinda nice, when you think about it," Tom said, planting kisses up and down B'Elanna's collarbone, licking her shoulder, her breast.

"Can't argue there. Dead, huh? Okay..." B'Elanna took a deep breath and slid a hand up Tom's thigh.

"Mmrgntnmm..." he said, his voice muffled by her kisses.

"What was that?" she pulled her face away, propped herself up on one elbow.

"I said, 'B'Elanna Torres, I think you're fantastic!'" Tom winked.

She curled up beside him, unable to shake her smile.

"Particularly nasty weather," she said.

Everything is creaking; what's not creaking is whirring or coughing, and what's not creaking, whirring or coughing doesn't work. Voyager. The ship sputters along.

"I have something for you," Chakotay appeared at Janeway's ready room door. She shut off her computer and smiled at him, waving a hand at the empty chair. He sat.

"So...?" she smirked at him, palm out, eagerly, like a child.

"Not that sort of something," he said. "Computer. Play program Chakotay-M-one."

Music swelled; swing, of some sort, a trumpet, drums, cymbals. Chakotay held out a hand.

"I _don't_ dance," Janeway laughed as her first officer swung her around, ducked her under his arm.

"Yes you do," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels, pulling her with him. "Look."

Sure enough, she was dancing, her feet clacking (one, two, one, two) on the floor, her hips swaying as she twirled toward Chakotay and snapped back (slow, slow, quick, quick), dipped across his arm and fell into step with him again (one, two, one, two). "Well, I certainly never could dance before!" She said, grinning widely.

"You," he said, pausing a moment as she leaned across his arm, their noses inches apart, "can do anything you want. You're Captain Kathyrn Janeway, extraordinaire!"

"Oh, I am, am I?" She said, reaching an arm up behind his head and pulling his hips into hers as they rocked from side to side.

"From where I'm standing," Chakotay spun her around, held her at arm's length for a moment before reeling her back in, "you're a knockout, Kathryn. A true star."

"You always were corny," she said, pressing her cheek to his chest and shifting her weight from foot to foot to the music. "And I always did appreciate it."

Noise. Clatter and murmurs. Morning. 

//I'm still _alive_?// B'Elanna grimaced as she heard Neelix whisper to Harry in the dark, and the lights came on. //Damn. Another day of hell.//

Seven helped Tuvok to his feet and folded his blanket neatly at the foot of the bed.

//Time to get back to work,// Janeway thought, though her muscles begged to disagree. She swung her legs over the bed and sat for a moment, gathering confidence. //Another day and we're still alive,// she looked at the faces of her crew, stumbling dumbly through morning haze. //Another day.//


End file.
